


I Drive Your Truck

by TicTok



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TicTok/pseuds/TicTok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul is still trying to put Taylor back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Drive Your Truck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [camshaft22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/camshaft22/gifts).



> Prompt request from Camshaft22  
> "Player A gets a broken finger and player B helps them feel not so helpless. Taylor pyatt and biz requested."
> 
> so yeah. here it is. I went a bit overboard on the feels in my opinion. and got a bit off task. but i mean. ...fics tend to develop a life of their own, am i right? somehow it became less about the broken finger and all about the issues. sorry. the broken finger was more of an excuse to get pyatt out to see biz anyway right? *shrug* sorry :/
> 
> Woo! my first fic request! 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr!! 2minsforslashing  
> Follow me on Twitter!! @brodates
> 
> title from the song "Drive Your Truck" by Lee Brice.

Feeling useless is not something Taylor isn’t used to. Sometimes he thinks it’s all he’s good for. God’s punching bag. Everyone’s punching bag. The butt of every bad joke. Sometimes he just feels so _alone_ , like his world is going to spin off it’s axis at any minute and all he can do is dig his fingers deeper into the dirt to hold on.

He doesn’t know _why_ he tries to catch the stray puck as it whirrs by him during practice. But he swears his first thought was _I hope no one saw that or I’ll never live it down._ Of course, everyone sees it. Lundquist laughs loudly, chirping from the goal, “Why would you catch that!?”

He hears the laughed around him and feels the heat creep up the back of his neck, making his skin tingle unpleasantly. He tries to smile and gently shakes out his hand, his breath catching as he does. _Shit._ He has broken fingers before and he knows it is broken. He chokes out a raspy laugh, leaning forward and squishing his hands between his thighs and gliding on the ice.

The team barely notices as he steps off the ice and pulls his glove off. The trainer scoffs at him and he fights the pinpricks in the corners of his eyes when the trainer roughly buddy bandages it and points him towards the team doctor’s office. 

Taylor makes a pit stop at the locker room and unlaces his skates with one hand and slips them off. He sits in his stall for a moment, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his good hand. He hears skates clinking and looks up, just in time to see Carl Hagelin freeze. The rookie goes wide eyed, looking over his shoulder then smiling and waving awkwardly. After a moment, Carl makes a run for it and waddles away as fast as he can on his skates. When he is out of sight Taylor stands slowly, and starts his march to the team doctor. 

Half an hour later and his finger had been poked, manhandled, x-rayed, and rebandaged. He is going to be out for at least a week. It wasn’t a real severe break, but it was fragile now and if he pushed it, the break could become worse. They gave him a bottle of pain killers and send him on his way, instructing him to take one when he gets home. Taylor doesn’t tell them, but he doesn’t intend to take any until he gets to Phoenix.

Taylor gets in his car and drives off towards home. He still hates driving, getting chills and shivers everytime he gets behind the wheel. Sometimes he swears he can still here her voice, singing happily to the radio and drumming her pink designer nails on the steering wheel.

Upon arriving home, he parks in the garage and lets himself into the house. It is gravely quiet and eerily chilly inside. He grimaces and pulls out his phone, dialing Paul’s number as he makes his way to the kitchen. Paul doesn’t answer, and Taylor doesn’t leave a message. He exhales slowly and makes himself a cup of hot tea. Then he sits down with his computer to book plane tickets.

His phone stays silent, even though he stares at it for over 20 minutes while he finishes his tea. He finally gives up and sets his now empty mug in the sink, grabbing his phone and heading upstairs. Taylor digs a small duffle bag out from underneath some boxes in his closet and starts loading it down with clothes. He packs up his laptop, his toothbrush, and a couple of xbox games. 

He heaves a sigh and flops belly down on his bed, his hand stretched out above his head to guard the injured finger. He sets his alarm on his phone and rolls onto his back. Paul will want him to come visit since he can’t play, right? _Right?_

He lays there for another half hour, dozing slightly. He jumps in surprise and fumbles for his phone when it rings. He smiles as he answers it. 

“Hey.” He says sleepily.

“Hi,” Paul’s voice crackles through the phone.

“So I accidentally broke my finger during practice today…”

“Oh yeah?” Taylor could hear the mix of concern and amusement in Paul’s voice.

“Yeah, and I was hoping you would want me to come stay with you since I’ll be out for at least a week.”

His breath caught nervously when Paul chuckled. “I would be offended if you didn’t! When are you coming?” Taylor relaxed and replied, “My flight leaves at 6:45 this evening.” Paul giggles harmlessly when Taylor tells him that he tried to catch a puck and when Taylor tells him about the team laughing at him, Taylor can hear Paul’s voice darken when he growls back, “They’re douches. Come back to the Coyotes and we’ll treat you right!”

~~~~Tic Tok~~~~

When his plane touches down his heart is beating rapidly in his chest. He slings his carry on bag over his shoulder and presses his hand to his chest, trying to calm it’s frantic beating. 

The airport is a maze, and Taylor fights to not be over whelmed. When his eyes land on Paul, he feels his whole existence slow. Like the only thing that matters is the smile on Paul’s face. He sees the way Paul’s eyes light up when they rest on him and thinks, _he’s smiling because of me._

Paul rushes over to him and wraps him in a hug. Taylor presses his face into Paul’s neck and breathes in. _Home._

Paul pulls the bags from Taylor’s hands and puts the straps over his own shoulder. He is still smiling brightly as he grabs Taylor’s good hand and drags him away. Paul leads him through the mess of warm bodies in the airport and Taylor stares at their linked fingers. Taylor trusts Paul to guide him through safely and not have him crash into strangers accidentally.

When they arrive at Paul’s house, Taylor has barely shut the door and Paul has dropped the bags on the floor is pressing him against the wall. Paul’s hands run up and down Taylor’s sides and Taylor slides his hands under Paul’s shirt.

Paul starts pulling on Taylor’s hips and tugs him down the hall to his bed room. He switches them around and walks Taylor backward until the backs of his knees hit against the bed. Taylor falls backward and lays there grinning up at Paul. 

Paul straddles Taylor’s hips and grinds down as he tugs Taylor’s shirt off him. Taylor runs his hands from Paul’s neck to down to the hem of his shirt and loops his fingers under it. Paul leans down and connects their lips as Taylor pushed his shirt up to his armpits. They break apart and Paul pulls his shirt up over his head. Taylor grins and presses his hips up. He is pulling Paul in for another round of kissing when he _sees it_.

A dark purple bruise on Paul’s collarbone. Paul grinds his hips into Taylors groin and groans as he leans down . Taylor pushes Paul off, and sits up. Paul makes a confused face and rocks back so he is sitting on his heels. Taylor stares, unable to tear his eyes away. In addition to the _multiple_ suck marks on Paul’s collarbone and chest, there are healing scratches marring the tender skin on Paul’s shoulder.

Rationally, Taylor knows that he and Paul had discussed it before, and they he had given Paul permission to pick guys or girls up periodically. But it doesn’t ease the sting of knowing Paul actually does it. 

Paul looks down at his chest, understanding suddenly. He gives Taylor a horribly understanding look and calmly says, “You said I could. You said it would be fine.” Taylor nods, looking away and exhaling slowly. 

Paul rubs the back of his neck nervously and mutters, “I’m sorry. If I had known you would be coming to visit I would have made sure I didn’t have any marks. I didn’t have much warning, you know. And also, you said it was okay.”

Taylor sat up, unenthusiastically whispering, “It is.” And crawling into Paul’s lap, pushing Paul over backwards. He puts a knee on either side of Paul’s hips and sighs, leaning in and resting his forehead to Pauls. He lets his eyes close, _I did say he could. I told him I wouldn’t be upset. I didn’t think it would bother me because I wouldn’t see him and I wouldn’t hardly have to acknowledge it. I knew I wasn’t enough for him, that’s why I told him he could._

Paul wraps his arms around Taylor’s waist and lets his face fall into Taylor’s throat. Taylor scowls at himself as the tears prick the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry.” Taylor whispers and Paul tenses up.

“For what?” Paul’s voice is clipped and terse. Taylor sighs and leans away. “For everything. I should have been here so you wouldn’t need other people for that...” Paul growls in the back of his throat and treads his fingers through Taylor’s. “No, you have nothing to be sorry for, it is my fault. You are the only one for me and I shouldn’t need them. …I don’t do it very often.” 

Taylor shrugs. “It’s okay.” Paul pushes Taylor over onto his back and kisses him gently. Paul curls around him and falls asleep, leaving Taylor on his own.

~~~~TicTok~~~~

The next four days are an awkward mix for Taylor. He fluxuates from miserable resignation to a mindset where he feels like he has to prove to Paul that he is good enough, that he can do the things those others did for him. They have sex everyday, sometimes a few times a day, to the point where Taylor is secretly rubbing a healing ointment onto himself _down there_ every chance he gets. On the fifth morning Taylor wakes up with Paul’s lips wrapped around his dick and Paul’s fingers circling his hole, pressing gently. Paul has shimmied Taylor’s boxers down to his thighs for better access. Paul is still wearing his sweats that he pulled on last night just before bed, and also a sloppy grin, obscenely stretched around Taylor’s dick.

Talyor first groans in pleasure, then yelps softly and almost jerks away as Paul presses two slippery digits past the tense ring of muscle. Paul’s eyes shift up, catching the flickering pained expression on Taylor’s face, and he pulls off and backs away, looking at Taylor with confusion. _Shit, he thinks I can’t handle it._

Taylor wriggles his hips experimentally and smiles weakly at Paul. “Come on,” He says, trying to sound eager. Paul is looking at him unsympathetically and he feels his heart sink into his stomach.

“Why didn’t you tell me I’ve been hurting you.” It isn’t quite a question, but Taylor scrambles for an answer anyway. Paul’s face drops and he hangs his head slightly. Taylor pushes himself up and grabs for Paul’s hands, only to have them batted away. Paul looks away, his face turned to the side.

“I can handle it. Okay? Anything you want, I can do it!” Paul scowls and get up, pacing the room in frustration. Tayler tries to hide the grimace of pain as he scoots to the edge of the bed. “I can, Paul!” 

“That isn’t the point!” Paul shouts, settling his gaze on Taylor. “You are seriously going to tell me that you are okay with letting me hurt you?! That isn’t okay! I can’t belive you!” Between the tone and the words, Taylor recoils.

“You have to believe me! I can _do it._ I can do what they do! Paul, please, I can!” Taylor scoots closer, trying to press up against Paul’s side, only to have Paul jump up from the bed. Paul holds his hands up and waves them around in frustration.

Taylor hides his flinch and wince as he stands up and pulls his boxers up, but Paul knows anyway. He looks Taylor up and down, then sighs moving forward and pulling Taylor against him. Taylor melds his body against Paul’s and presses his face into Paul’s neck. Paul takes a breath and his voice is soft when he finally speaks.

“I belive you, but I don’t want to do that. It isn’t okay. You need to tell me no when you’re hurting. …You know, they don’t even compare to you. You are so much better because I _love you._ They are just warm bodies. I don’t care about them. I care about you. You are all I need. I’m never going to do that again.”

Taylor turns his head away and lays it on Paul’s shoulder, blinking slowly. His brain is insisting that Paul is lying, that Paul is only telling him what he wants to hear. But a deeper part of him insists that Paul is saying it because he means it.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit for how wonderful and amazing you are. If I had to design my perfect partner, he would come out exactly like you every single time. You’re it for me. And I’m an idiot for what I did. What I have _been_ doing.”

Taylor feels warm little explosions in his stomach at the words. He knows he should believe Paul, and is mildly surprised when he realizes that he _does_ believe it. Paul kisses his neck and smiles against his skin. 

“Do you have any idea how hooked on you I am? I am so, _so_ in love with you. Taylor, _I love you._ And I don’t want to hurt you. Physically or emotionally, okay? So you have got to tell me when I’m fucking up. You don’t have to be tougher than you already are. You are the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Taylor’s eyes are filled with tears now, and when Paul feels the hot drips on his shoulder he hugs Taylor closer, harder. “You know I love you, right?” Taylor shrugs and nods. Paul adds, “I do, I love you so much it scares me sometimes.” Taylor turns his face and breaths wetly into Paul’s neck.

“I don’t deserve it though.”

“Yes you do. More than anyone else in the whole world deserves to be loved. She would want you to be happy. She wouldn’t want you to be sad all the time. Why do you think I fell for you? I swear sometimes it was like she was whispering in my ear what to say and what to do. I want to make you happy, I want to love you, I _do love you_. And I _know_ she would have wanted you to be loved the way I love you.”

Taylor lets out a long suffering sigh and sags against him as Paul guides him back to bed and curls up around him. Taylor buries his face into Paul’s chest and cries for all he’s worth for a good hour before exhausting himself and falling asleep.

When he wakes up he feels warm and content. Paul’s arms are around him, with his lips pressed against Taylor’s hairline. He realizes suddenly that Paul is right. He has to let go of holding out for her to come back. He was first gifted with the most amazing women he ever met, and now he has the most amazing man. He smiles weakly and looks over Paul’s shoulder out the window. The sun is high and shining brightly.

Paul stirs against him and Taylor is overwhelmed by how lucky he is to have this. He presses his lips to Pauls and kisses him awake. When he sees Paul’s eyes open he pulls back slightly and whispers, “I love you.” He doesn’t miss the contented delight that flashes across Paul’s eyes as Paul smiles and pulls him close again.


End file.
